


a soliloquy, in brief

by VioletLopez



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, i really don't know what tags to put thats really all, its just marius being sad and pretending hes not, like literally - Freeform, marius is sad, sorry bout it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 06:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17299226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletLopez/pseuds/VioletLopez
Summary: "if marius breaks, it was marius’ doing."-he controls his own self. he is stronger than they know.





	a soliloquy, in brief

Marius knows. It isn’t, after all, very difficult to figure out; he had watched them and listened to them and taken them all in for years and years. Many of these men he had known since he opened his eyes.

(distantly he thinks: when did they become men? he himself is still just a boy.)

He watches them in meetings, quietly from the corners, watching Enjolras pace and Grantaire smirk and the men laugh together, grow quiet together, mourn together. The room is full of men and full of passion. This is what they believe in. Each is instilled with an ache, a need to make their way in the world; to mark history with something worth marking. They pine to produce something irreplaceable. The les Amis de L’ABC.

(distantly he thinks: the les amis de l’abc and marius, gathered to make a change)

Marius knows how to read eyes and find the hidden meaning in words. He knows what it means when their gazes don’t pause, passing him over; he knows what it means when they cut off conversations, or don’t initiate them at all; he knows what it means when the way they look at him makes his smiles fall; he knows what it is to be unwanted.

(distantly he thinks: when did it happen?)

It won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. It hurts beyond compare, it hurts like hell, to have these men, his best friends, extensions of himself, cut him off. To him, they are a rivet, each face one he would die for; to them, he is nothing. these men are who he trusts with the world. if he is nothing to them, he is nothing to himself.

(distantly he thinks: he really never was anything to himself, but for a brief moment when they would smile at him, he felt like he mattered somehow.)

(distantly he realizes: he was wrong.)

But Marius, for all that they think of him, does not whine. He is not a snivelling brat, he is not weak, nor useless. Unwanted; yes. Tired; yes. Shattering like a glass ornament hitting the floor; yes, of course, but not of their doing. If Marius breaks, it was Marius’ doing, no matter if they aided or not; for Marius is a man as much as they are, and he controls his own self. If Marius cries, it’s his own choice; if he screams, it’s his own choice; if he finds some high ledge and meets God again, then it’s his own damn choice. He is Marius Pontmercy. He is _Marius_. If he cannot be wanted, if he cannot be helpful, then in the least he will be what he is.

(distantly he aches: “i do not want to be myself anymore.”)


End file.
